Samurai Jack VS The Guardian: The Day I Saved Samurai Jack
by Thegreatestthereeverwillbe
Summary: Red has had a horribly disadvantaged upbringing in Aku's indoctrinated world. He has developed an inexplicable hatred for Samurai Jack, blaming him for everything wrong in the world. Trying to build a better life, Red becomes an infamous bounty hunter hellbent on killing Jack. One day he is tasked with killing the guardian. That day changes him, Samurai Jack, and the world itself.


**Samurai Jack VS The Guardian: The Day I Saved Samurai Jack**

 _Samurai Jack created by Gendy Tartakovsky_

I wanted to be as disadvantaged as Samurai Jack so I decided to work for Aku. If you know half of what I'm talking about then you know that that sentence is as oxymoronic as a cold sun. Only that level of disadvantage can make you as legendary as Samurai Jack. Samurai Jack. I know that's not your real name. Samurai Jack is an urban legend, or so I thought. When I was a kid we kept hearing about some wooden sandaled prick running up and down the planet slicing Aku's minions to shreds. But we never got a clear idea of who that prick was. One guy in the Northern District said he was actually a she, and she was Aku's daughter or something like that. Can't imagine old Redbeard getting it on though, not that he doesn't have the swagger for it but… with who (or more poignantly) what? The bartender in the eastern district insisted that Samurai Jack was a black man with a long pharaonic beard, but that his skills as a swordsman are overly exaggerated. The old woman in the Western District said that her husband owned a noodle store in the Southern District and swears by Aku himself that Samurai Jack is a shapeshifting chicken who is vehemently opposed to eating chicken for cannibalistic reasons. Come to think of it, I did once go to a fight in the Kombat Klub where a chicken did kick some decent ass. If you thought that didn't make sense, some lunatic in the southern district is convinced that _he_ is Samurai Jack. If that were remotely true then that Samurai knows how to hide.

The constant conflicting views that exist about who, or what, the samurai is can all be traced back to Aku's censorship mechanism. This isn't anything out of a government office- like it's even possible to start up a functioning government- Aku's censorship is fear itself. No one wants to dare write, draw, photograph, describe, or even think about Samurai Jack lest Aku finds out- and Aku is everywhere. He's on the subway. He's in the schools. He's on the buildings. He's on the bus. He's in the architecture. He's everywhere. Nowhere is safe. Even Samurai Jack's most obliviously ardent supporters have to put on a phony Aku-loyalist smile every hour of everyday, and I _hate_ phonies. Tough shit for me, cause I'm surrounded by them. It's how people survive around here. I had to learn that the hard way.

When I was kid I always wanted more. More clothes, more food, more lights. But we just couldn't afford it. No one could. Only those who got on Aku's good side could afford to live like human beings. But when I was twelve something changed. Those who got onto Aku's good side started losing money, and there was nothing they could do about it. Aku's attention was diverted completely. From despotic governance to one thing—destroying Samurai Jack. That was the only thing that convinced me that Samurai Jack actually existed. But what could I do? I stayed quiet. Finished school. Went to university. Got a degree. Started applying for jobs, got rejected, and when I finally landed a job it could barely make ends meet. The companies diverted their focus from developing stuff that people wanted to buy because no one had the money to buy. They put their money where the real money was—where Aku was, and Aku wanted bounty hunters. Lots of them.

When I was twenty two years old, I quit my job and bought armor and guns. I went over to the local police department and started tracking down common criminals. First they were small time criminals. Some ambassador's secretary from some far away planet wanted to start a rebel group so I killed her and collected the bounty. That bounty was twice my monthly salary, and that was considered small! So I worked at it. Got better. I got another target a week later and it was allegedly some merchant that sold food to Samurai Jack. Killed him too, and got ten times my salary. I could get used to this, and I did. I've been doing this for twenty three years now. Everywhere I went, villagers knew me from my distinct garbs. I wore a customary red cloak to cover my torso. I wore a black vest over my white suit, white shirt, and red tie. On my head I always wore my lucky white hat with a distinctive black strap. I grew a thick black moustache, but a bit of white has started to appear now. They called me 'Red', because wherever I went I left a trail of red blood behind me, and my white suit blended in with my red cloak, which is ironic because I don't really like using swords. I use what the situation demands, and so far it's been two revolvers, a shotgun, or a long range sniper rifle. The red usually came after I confirmed the kill. That involves looking at the mess I made. I don't complain though. My father taught me that growing up. Actually I kinda liked it. It was a good thing; to be feared from miles away. I felt like I was a force to be reckoned with. But I still wasn't ready to be given the Samurai Jack case. There were always fifty bounty hunters after him at all times, those were the 'top fifty'. Last time I checked, I was sixty two. I couldn't wait to get to fifty, but I didn't know what I'd do if I got there. All that changed last night. The night I finally met Samurai Jack.

My journey actually started about two weeks before. I got a new hit. Apparently, Aku had figured out that there was something called a 'time portal' a ways away from the city. Problem is, he doesn't know exactly where it is. For an all-powerful demon, he sure is inefficient. So I did what any good bounty hunter would do: I followed leads. I went to a village just on the outskirts of Siwa, Egypt. I recently heard Aku raving about his favorite new piece of entertainment—the farting dragon. Basically this village apparently had a giant red dragon that farted every second of every day so the villagers started cutting off their noses to avoid smelling it. But two weeks before that, Aku's mood got shut down when the dragon stopped farting. That could only mean one thing. Samurai Jack was there. That's the last time anyone's seen the Samurai, so that's where I'm headed. If Samurai Jack's been there, then he's got to be after that time portal—what else do time-trapped samurais do?

So I got to the village. Everything seemed rather fine, though there was a stabbing smell of burnt toast, but aside from that it was all good. I had taken the precaution to grow my beard and carry my hat in my white briefcase along with my red cloak to avoid being recognized, though I doubt that would have been a problem in these parts. My reputation had preceded in the past, but in such a backwards town like this I doubt they know who Aku is. I saw a red hooded man with no nose so I stopped him and asked. 'Excuse me, has Samurai Jack passed by here?' 'Allow me to show you the sign of my store!' he said. I looked at the sign and it said 'Scissor smith'. 'Do you see the words 'free information on there?'' the red hooded man said in his high pitched voice. 'No, but I do see your blood on it.' I told him. He pushed me aside to look closer at the sign 'where!?' he cried just before I punched him in the back of the head, causing him to cough up blood right between the second and third s. 'Right there!' I said. The scissor smith caught his breath and said 'I knew that wouldn't work on you.' His pet parrot (or crow? it oddly looked like one) yelled from within the store 'LIAR! RHYMES WITH FIRE!' I called it a stupid bird when the scissor smith insisted that that thing was somehow his wife. Right enough, like any woman would want a no-nosed freak like him. 'So, he was here?' I asked. 'Yes.' 'Who was the last man he talked to before leaving?' 'And how am _I_ supposed to know that?' the scissor smith said with obvious sarcasm. 'Greedy! Rhymes with Needy!' his so-called wife cried. I gave the man a meagre 5 credits and his mouth salivated with joy as he told me in excruciating detail where I could find the last man Samurai Jack talked to. He was—quite ironically an amphibian creature who had settled in this town for fear of being hunted down by Aku. I knew him from his description alone. Three eyes on long fleshy poles sticking up from his round face that housed gills on one side and a nose right in the middle. Apparently he survived the whole farting episode by breathing in water from a portable bowl he attached to his gill while clipping his nose shut. He had a small dark green mouth covering his set of flat, herbivore teeth. He was Qa'lum. The bounty on his head was 100,000 for aiding and abetting a known fugitive: Samurai Jack. Unfortunately, he was not my assigned target and I needed him. My target was a man who had killed many bounty hunters before me. A man who had taken upon himself to act as some kind of bodyguard to this time portal. If you ask me, he could have made a lot more money by becoming a bounty hunter himself, but that isn't my place. I found Qa'lum in the bar. He was sitting right at the front of the bar wearing his distinctive green cloak. I couldn't make myself known to him lest he try to shoot first. I walked up to the bar, and bought him a drink. He began my saying.

'I didn't get your name?'

'Robinson.' I said. A fake name. 'And you are?'

'Not interested.'

'Bartender, here's one thousand credits. Let this man drink off of them for the rest of his days.'

'My word.' The bartender said. 'Thank you!'

'I don't drink that often.'

'Come now Qa'lum. Surely a man who has seen what you've seen needs to forget every once in a while.'

'How did you find me bounty hunter?'

'If I wanted you dead, I would have paid Samurai Jack to do it.'

'Ha! You aren't half the man Jack is.'

'Oh, I'll bet.'

'Jack is a man who thinks of others before he thinks of himself, even though in his circumstances he can't afford to.'

'Jack is Aku's latest gimmick. He's here to keep the rest of us in check. Those who help him are disloyal and those who don't are. He's a filter.'

'You can't be serious. Aku would inspire the hopeless against him just to make a point? What if they rose up against him?'

'Aku is the shapeshifting master of darkness. No one, not even an army of you or me could stand up to him.'

'Yes, because the only thing that can harm him is Jack's sword!'

'Come on. A wooden sandal wearing, unshaved man from who knows when has a voodoo sword that can defeat an all-powerful demon? Give me a break.'

'No, no, no, no it's true! It has to be!'

'Have you seen it hurt him?'

'Well... no'

'Case closed!'

How foolish was I.

'What do you want?' he told me in a heartbroken tone.

'I know you told the Samurai about a portal.'

'AHA! YOU'RE HERE TO STOP HIM FROM GETTING TO THE PROTAL I KNEW IT WAS REAL I WON'T TELL YOU A THING!'

'Relax, bubbles. Portals don't exist.'

'Then why have you come all the way here?'

Point taken. But I had my charm.

'I know that someone as naïve as yourself who believes the horse shit he can't see with three eyes no less is definitely going to believe in portals. You sent that man to nowhere!'

'Why do you care!?' he barked at me.

'Because I've come to put an end to him!'

'He'll cut you down like rubber!'

'Then you'll have one less bounty hunter to worry about!'

'I told him to go to The Great Mystical Lake'

'Ah, Lake Nubia!'

'I wouldn't go if I were you. You can't even get past the lake.'

'We'll see.'

I walked away from the bar and heard him call me an idiot underneath his breath. No matter, I thought. Soon, he'll be dead anyways. I sent in a communication to HQ telling them of his whereabouts. That'll surely get me up to at least 60 in the rankings. Though, the idea of facing an opponent as legendary and as unpredictable as Jack? That is daunting. Maybe I'll run into him on the way to this guardian guy, I thought. Maybe I'll get to see him kill something else. Heck, maybe I'll see him kill this Guardian for me! Then maybe I can pull the trigger right when he least expects it. My ambition had blinded me like the sun blinds a little bird from its own nest. All I could think about was 'ME! NUMBER 62! KILLED SAMURAI JACK! OH THINK OF THE PAYDAY! NO MORE RUMMAGING! NO MORE HUNGER! I COULD GAMBLE MY NET WORTH AWAY AND STILL HAVE CHANGE!' Only now do I understand, that even if I had killed Jack. Aku would have taken the credit. But I persisted. It's how I was raised. Never to give up.

I called HQ and requested a helicopter to fly me over to the lake. It wasn't too far way. By the time the helicopter came to the mountain where that dragon had been I had changed into my 'Red' outfit.

'Good to see you sir.' The pilot told me.

'Lake Nubia' I directed and he set a course.

'Sir, I should warn you, that lake is incredibly deep. Impassable by man. Are you sure you want me to drop you off there?'

'I'm on Samurai Jack's tale and that's his last known location. I've got to try.'

'With all due respect sir, Samurai Jack isn't an ordinary man. Just last week he cut Joe's helicopter in half whilst in midair with a fucking sword!'

'He was moving from Kojima towards the lake.'

'Oh so he's going west to east. I got it, I'll drop you over on the east side.'

'Copy.'

And so we flew towards the east side. It was a rather short ride. Pleasant too. Karim was quite the pilot. Had some good conversation topics too! He was from the same city I was, but he went to a different school. It's hard to believe we hadn't met before. But then again we did tend to look more at our feet than at what was in our way.

We we're halfway through the lake when the flight radar went nuts.

'Picking up a large audible disturbance just north of here.' Karim said.

I leaned out through the door hatch I got in from and through the swift chops of the propeller I could hear something. Unmistakable. A scream. I zoomed in on it with my rifle as much as I could and I could make out from the smallest of shapes: a black sheathe with a yellow diamond patterned hilt with black interludes on the hip of what looked like a human in white clothing.

'Karim, you might want to see this.'

Karim put the helicopter on auto pilot and looked through my rifle.

'By Aku's beard.' He exclaimed.

'Control we have a visual on Samurai Jack' he said into the radio.

The radio spat back through the static: 'Confirm, do you have a visual on Samurai Jack?'

'Affirmative.'

'Do you have the package?'

'I'm right here.' I said through the mic.

'Do not engage. Repeat. DO NOT ENGAGE SAMURAI JACK.'

'Copy.' Karim and I said in unison.

'How close can you get me to him?'

'Without being spotted? That hill just southwest of his position.'

'Do it.'

And so he did. All the while I kept my gaze focused on him. He had blocked his ears to protect them from that beast's yell. Good for us, because if his hearing is half as good as they say it is, we would have ended up sliced in half like Joe did. Once we had gotten to the hill I jumped down onto it and Karim flew away.

'Give me a shout if you need me.' He said through the mic after he had made his way towards the lake.

'Copy, thanks.'

'No problem.'

I fixed my rifle at him, only now that black thing had begun to swim away. I hid behind a rock lest he see me, because whatever that thing is its clearly sentient. I could see Jack talking to it when some other scorpion thing came crawling from the mountain above. Then I saw it talking to that red scorpion! Something isn't quite right. I could see a platform in the middle of the mountain, a checkpoint of some kind. It would appear that that's where Jack was heading. Maybe the portal is somewhere there? I thought. I couldn't shoot. Not yet anyway. I need to know where that portal was, where that guardian is, deal with it and _then_ I could shoot. At least that's the reason I intended to give HQ if asked. They know I could see him. Aku was probably watching. But here? In my journal? This is where I can be me. I can be honest here. No one's gonna read this. It's not like I have a couple of kids who are gonna read this when I get back home. Maybe one day. But, I didn't shoot because I was a little scared. Petrified. No I'm a coward. That's why I hide my face when I go hunting. That's also why I don't use my real name. I want to know that there'll always be an option B if option A. doesn't work out. If Samurai Jack sees me, and comes after me, I need to know I can escape somewhere he won't be able to find me. I kept my rifle on him as he climbed onto the red animal's back. Any move he made, anything that even hinted he was on to me, and bam! No more samurai. Unless of course the rumors that his skin is made from titanium were true, and that bullets just scratched him, in which case I need to activate plan B and fast.

Jack and that _thing_ were heading towards the checkpoint. It had become night and my eyes were starting to get heavy. Suddenly it threw him towards it. There was a huge gust of wind coming. I was sure it'd whisk him way but I was wrong. All it did was hurl open his long, black, silky, thick, beautiful, luscious hair. Forgive me. It had been months since I'd seen a woman. But I'll admit from this distance he could have easily been a dancer at one of the clubs back home. But I could see enough from where I was. His hair fluttered in the wind like a royal standard. When I looked at it my heart raced. Not to cheer for him, but to hope to see him move like that some more. It wasn't natural. It wasn't okay. I think he knew I was watching. He kept running, and jumping; leaning, and ducking all the while putting on all _that_ on display. To him, maybe it was some sort of mind game. I couldn't see anything there. He wasn't fighting anyone. I know we didn't have any droids over there. Heck I was probably the first man from Aku's side to have come here. But maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe there _was_ something. An invisible something. I can't quite be sure. But I'll admit. I let my guard down. As Jack ran up and down the checkpoint, slipping and weaving, slicing and dicing, I had one hand on the rifle which was being supported at the barrel by a small tripod. The other hand was down in my pants. I hadn't had one in months. I couldn't pass it up. Jack swung his sword like a golf club from left to right, then from up to down, his hair masking his face and eyes, but his ears would not forsake him. Until finally he grasped his sword with both hands, almost begging me to do the same- and sliced vertically. He stood in that position for some time until the wind blew over. I had just realized how short all that was. I had also realized that I needed a change of pants. His hair came down with the calming of the wind and he tied back up. In that moment I took a good hard look at him. His bulging physique tightened his robe around him. But from up here, he looked all woman to me. He talked to his red scorpion friend, but I couldn't hear what they had to say. All I knew was he most certainly didn't know I was here. That was good. It would hurt now, when I killed him. But at least then this would die with him. I am ashamed of what I did. But I absolutely do not regret it. Just then a gigantic winged red beast appeared. I instinctively thought of the farting dragon coming to his aid, but I noticed that this was no dragon. Good enough, at least now Karim won't be afraid to give pursuit. It had a tail longer than Aku's beard, and eyes yellower than gold. Its wings eclipsed the sun, and drew _his_ attention. I hid behind the rock and disposed of my undergarments quickly before anyone could notice. I picked up my communicator and radioed Karim.

'Control, requesting air transport.'

'Red! Did you find him?'

'Negative, but I'm on Jack's tail.'

'Did he see you?'

'Negative.'

'Alright, ETA 10 minutes.'

'Make it five Karim, we need this now more than ever.'

'I copy.'

Sooner than that Karim came over the hill and dropped me a rope ladder with wooden rungs. I climbed up as fast as I could, almost falling back down from my misguided delusion of excitement. I now knew that the legends, the stories, they were probably true. But I was blinded by the glory of being the man who killed both this guardian _and_ Samurai Jack at once. Think of all the fame and glory I would have. All the wealth that would lie at my disposal, all the slaves that would care for my every beck and call. Never again will I have to endure the strains of poverty, never again will a little boy from my progeny have to choose between their passion and their right to a meal. I would end this vicious cycle of misfortune that has befallen my family for ages. My interest seemed to me firmly vested in Aku's continued domination of the earth. Nothing, not even Jack's supposedly righteous and pure mission could change that conviction I had. Oh how wrong I was.

'Which way did he go?'

'A winged beast came and flew south, over the fauna there!'

'En route.'

Thankfully, what we lacked in time we made up for in the power of our engines and the rotation of our propellers. Had we needed to, we would have even engaged the burst of our thrusters to overtake the Samurai and bring him to heel. But that would not be needed, as such antics would forfeit our element of surprise. Karim would never agree anyway. He has always been rather cowardly, especially after his last encounter with that murderous Samurai.

That guardian, he was probably a fiend. No more fiendish than Aku, but at least Aku makes up for it with sustained economic growth in the city. Jack? Jack is a destabilizing force. A menacing, counterintuitive, repulsion to intergalactic investment on our planet. This guardian, however fiendish he may be, is still more innocent than _him._ But I know he too expects us. All fiends do. I learned that from experience. No matter how sneaky I am, when my gun is pointed at their head, I never sense shock. I sense fear, agitation, but never shock. It's only when I pull the trigger, and after that loud bang… silence… That is when I taste shock and awe. Not from myself but from those around me. They are shocked that even on the remote corners of this now untamed world, still the arm of justice finds them and snatches them from within their open caves. Will that silence come here, where there are none to be amazed aside from a friend and a fugitive? There would be only one way to find out.

'I see him! W-wha AKU'S BEARD! THAT PTERODACTYL THING JUST KILLED HIM!' Karim exclaimed

I leaned in from behind the pilot's seat and sure enough the pterodactyl beast had flown back without Jack on its back.

'I saw it flip at a 180 degree angle and drop him down there!' Karim said.

'The portal must be down there, I'm jumping. I'll call for you when I've killed him.'

'W-wait!' he tardily commanded as I had already committed myself, and indeed my weight forward with my parachute strapped to my back. I dove from that helicopter and almost immediately drew open my chute. I scanned down and my eye immediately caught as instinctively as lion spots a lioness. He had fallen through the clouds onto some sort of tipped tower. I directed my chute there and as I got closer my heart jumped into my throat. This was no city.

'Bozko, Rico, Armelio, Santinio, Marcellus, Comisco, These are all bounty hunters! Top twenties! All of them!'

Indeed. This was a mass graveyard, filled with legends whose shoes I could only aspire to fill. That tipped tower, was Vladivos the Impotiser. Next to him was Cerebero the Canine Cannibal. Their limbs made for debris leading up to a shining white light. Broken hands, swords, weapons, it was a theatre of destruction, a field of viciously dismembered corpses. There were even pieces of Beetle drones, but I doubt they stood a fraction of a chance that my compatriots did. It seems beetle drones, despite the criticism, are indeed Aku's first solution to any problem. 'Time travelling Samurai comes to the future? No problem! Send the drones!' 'Smuggler doesn't pay Aku in time? Send the drones!' Its only now, I think, that he's come around to giving the real work to us men, but at this time, in this place, in this situation, I do not want to be a man.

All the faces of the corpses grimace in fear. This place is not a place for weary, perhaps even mortal, men. This was undoubtedly the work of the man I was assigned to kill. Good riddance then. The thought however, crept up on me like an assassin's shadow to a victim's body was _I_ assigned to kill the guardian or was _he_ assigned to kill me? Is this where ambitious bounty hunters come to die? All of these bounty hunters share one thing in common—the agency lists them as Missing in Action. They never told us they came to this place, to face this… monster… to die such horrible and gruesome deaths. I had not seen the barbarian who did this, but I was already beginning to doubt my ability to defeat such a dominant force. Luckily, and unbeknownst to both the Guardian and Samurai Jack, they're both going to do my little dance tonight. Whoever survives this duel is going to become my prey, and seeing that both of them have reputations to live up to, survival is just the word to use to describe the victor.

By the time I had collected my thoughts and focused my concentration, I saw that Jack had begun to walk towards the light both literally and metaphorically. The glory of the score began to cloud my vision. A legend VS a Legend, an immovable force meets and unstoppable object, whoever survives will be ripe for the killing! I kept my pace with Samurai. I always let him be three steps ahead of me. He climbed over the bodies of my friends, and I hid behind the corpses of their comrades. He slid down their necks, and I climbed up their stomachs, until finally the light blinded us both. We had arrived. I stood perched on Melanius' rusted helmet. He had called himself Melanius after the Spartan King who besieged Troy to get back what was rightfully his. He was so inspired by his heroic actions that he even modelled his helmet after his—in the Spartan way. I felt a sense of guilt for abusing his final resting place in this way, but I justified it so simply by swearing to avenge him by killing the beast that caused this.

It truly was a win-win for me. If Samurai Jack dies, I get to kill not only the damned Guardian, but also the one who killed Samurai Jack! If Samurai Jack wins, I get to kill him myself! I get to deny him the pleasure of going back to the past, and then when he gaps his final breaths, I will be there to _thrust_ the life right out of him again, and again, and again until I can thrust no more. Such a sweet revenge it will be for all those of my friends that his blade brought down, and best of us they'll be there to watch! After all, the Guardian of a time portal wouldn't be a threat if it weren't for Samurai Jack.

As I stood atop my vantage point, and saw what Melanaius once saw, I was quite underwhelmed. This hyped up guardian was just…. A man.

I could not tell if the portal's light darkened his skin, but from up here he looked blue. Perhaps he had the ability to diverge blood from his brain to his muscles because those things were absolutely disgusting. They were massive. Too big for an ordinary man. His biceps were literally the size of motorcycles, not motorcycle tires, the entire bicycle! Compared to him, Jack looked like a shrilled twig that broke off a tree that was struck by lightning three times and stepped on by an elephant. But here's the thing: he kept walking towards him. He had a certain stubbornness to his step too. This is a man who'd been ferried across a bottomless lake, flung into seemingly invisible enemies, and then thrown from the clouds, and presumably landed rather awkwardly on the earth (not mention being displaced in time)… and he kept walking! I respected him, but I still wanted to kill him- if the guardian gave me the chance of course.

I magnified the zoom on my scope and activated the high-frequency microphone so I could hear what was happening on the ground. The best shot, is the one that is least expected. I wanted to shoot then and there, but then one of them would be more than ready to fight me. I had to wait until one of them was horrendously damaged, and the other was dead before I could take my shot. That is the wisest move.

The two men stood a while at the portal. Presumably sizing each other up. At least that's what I did. The sand beneath them was red with the blood of my kin. All the more reason to avenge the fallen. The Samurai brought shame with him to these sands each step he took. He insults the memory of far greater, far better men. I wanted to spit on the sand to bring some cleanliness back to the soil, but it would do be no good to give away my position. But no matter. Soon I would crush those wooden sandals and blind him with the splinters. With each step he took I knew he saw the guardian grow in stature. His black silhouette eclipsed not only the portal, but all hope of victory. His suit drew longer behind his body and fluttered in the warm wind as if to wave a wartime banner. The fluttering suit announced to Jack 'These are my borders, and only my corpse shall grant you right of passage.' Jack stood stiff when he heard it. He, too let his garb speak. 'I have seen centuries of combat, and embraced countless modes of it. Neither you nor your determination shall block me from what is rightfully mine.' Of course neither of them spoke these words, they remained unsaid but intrinsically understood. I could tell from the look on Jack's face that he felt intimidated. _I_ felt intimated and I was in hiding. He had hoped that his reputation would precede him as it usually did. Maybe it did. But the Guardian was unmoved and unafraid. He stood his ground and looked directly at the Samurai. His red sunglasses ready to redden further with samurai blood.

'They call me Jack.' He bowed to him perhaps in fear on some respect. 'The creatures of this mystical land have guided me here. Is this the passage through time that I have quested for?' He asked innocently hiding his guilt.

'Yep.' Said the blue-skinned man.

'I humbly request your permission to use this great power.' Jack said bowing further, begging! I really think he thought he could get out of this by asking nicely. It was worth a shot, truly. That man was at least thrice his size. It must have been a truly daunting sight to him, one worthy of such a scandalous and cowardly attempt to liberate oneself from the burden of direct, physical confrontation. But even I know that he knew that that was not going to happen.

'BAHAHAHA!' the Guardian laughed wildly, uttering what was on both our minds. 'No.'

'Guardian! By what right do you deny me!?' Jack said. This was actually something I wanted to learn.

'For countless eons I have guarded this magical power of time travel.' The Guardian began 'From the mightiest of giants, to the tiniest of warriors.' He was insulting _my_ friends, my kin! It took a lot of willpower form me, but I did not shoot, though I truly wanted too. I could have killed him too- or so I thought. He was clear as day in my sights, standing perfectly still. But then I'd clear a path from that terrorist to go through the portal—but that was how misguided I was back then. Things change, opinions change. That's just it about opinions, depending on how distorted or how complete your facts are, you can have wildly conflicting opinions, with only those opinions being most backed up by factual observations being accepted as valid. On that day, when I saw the back of Samurai Jack's head in my scope as he looked at the guardian hiding his trembling body from his opponent's gaze I harbored a most invalid opinion that could have brought the world as we know it to an incessant spiral of doom and gloom, and of all people in this world I must thank that blue skinned man for the clarity of thought that I am accustomed to today.

'You see Samurai, only one man has been prophesized to defeat me, and that man is the only man who can use this time passage, and you, my man, ain't that man.' With that the little boy inside of me jumped up and down. Despite his reputation preceding him, still the Guardian wants to fight, and he is absolutely certain that Jack won't be able to defeat him. We were in agreement on that point. 'Oh boy!' I thought to myself gleefully. 'I have front row seats to the death of Samurai Jack! This is gonna be good!' I was even excited enough to kill the Guardian after the fight and claim both kills as my own! 'Maybe I'm the man who is destined to defeat the steroid junky!' The level of excitement that pumped through my veins was more than the amount of oxygen my blood cells carried. I was so excited I almost lost track of their conversation, but thankfully I managed to silence my thoughts just as Jack gave a sigh of desperation—his final breaths—or so I thought at the time.

'I had hoped that just once I would not have to battle for my goal, because it is noble and just!' Such a liar, I thought. Mass murdering, status-quo disrupting liar! I could sense the fear in his upward jerking tone… it pleased me. 'But I see that this is impossible. I must use the power of this time passage, and so I will defeat you!' he declared, trying to strike the simplest of doubts in his opponents' thoughts, but such tricks would not work here, not against the man who killed Menalaius.

With such calmness, without even raising his pitch to half of that of Jack's the guardian said 'Ain't gonna happen.' Those three lines, made me regret what I had to do in just a few moments time.

'We shall see.' Jack said as he drew his katana. The swishing sound it made as it broke free of the shackles of its holster and cut the air in front of it was enough to send out an echo through the graveyard. For a second I was in Feudal Japan on the sidelines of the Battle of Kyoto. There was no murmur of the teleporter, no complex setting, just the simple nature of brutal, total, natural war.

'Oh you goin' all old school on me huh!?' said the samurai from the opposing shogunate—the man defending the ancient city of Kyoto barring this invading villain from going into this ancient Japanese town and wreaking infinite amounts of havoc on her citizenry as he did with Aku's! 'Well I got me one of those!' the guardian drew his own sword! Just then my dream came to an abrupt end and all my thoughts subsided as I narrowed my focus on the two men. The duel was about to begin, and I had everything I needed to have an excellent time. I had my willpower, my determination, my incentive, and my weapon. I had entered my element and allowed my predatory instincts to take over. This is the only part of the story where I cannot explain to you, dear reader, how I felt. During assassination, I become as impersonal as a stone wall. All there is is a target. I don't like it, I don't hate it, I just have to meet it.

That day was shaping up to be a good day indeed, but then again that is the magic of good days. Any day can be a good day, even those that start out horribly. Similarly any day could be a bad day, even those that start out impeccably. This was one of those days for me. A very, very, _very_ , bad day that ultimately became the happiest day of my life.

The two men looked at each other for an eternity. They recognized each other from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. They assessed their fighting techniques and calculated their every predictable move. The wind grew quieter as Jack's ponytail became heavier as it further drenched itself in sweat breaking whatever wind came from behind him. Their lungs had come to a complete stop. Their shadows came to an aching stiffness. Then, the Guardian cracked a very faint smile that released a modicum of carbon dioxide from his lips. That modicum flung Jack into the air as he amplified it with his own screams scattering the thoughts like leaves in the wind. He came down like a meteorite on the guardian, but the guardian remained unmoved both emotionally and physically as he repelled his attack with own sword. Like lighting striking twice, Jack struck again only to be met by another bolt of lightning by his opponent's sword. Twice again, and Zeus' lighting could not penetrate Hades' fire. Jack swung again, and again in rapid succession. Each strike quicker than the last until the time between each stroke of his sword was less than the time between each splitter of a fire on a warm winter night. The guardian, still, where he had always stood, while Jack attacked from every which way. He was desperate, his fighting style proved it. Each stroke erupted with a tiny spark that burned and faded in the sands around them. They were two warriors in an arena of fire surrounded by the blood of their enemies and their aspirations for victory. One had a legacy to uphold, the other had a destiny to fulfill and neither sword would give. The guardian, throughout this time was not on the defensive, but was indeed on the offensive in a higher plain of combat—in the mind. With each strike that bore no fruit, Jack's will suffered. How can a man defeat what he cannot harm? Then the guardian began to pace backwards, pacing his opponent. He planted the seeds of arrogance in his enemy. With each step back he drew him closer to where he wanted him, closer to his trap. Each backwards pace was like rainfall to a planted seed. Soon the light of the portal blinded them from sight, but not from mind. Jack swung again hoping to meet flesh, but he did not meet even steel. The first victory was won—Jack missed his swing. It was now time for the Guardian to fight. He brought forward his blade and met Jack's. They locked swords and I took a good look at Jack's face as it grimaced in frustration. The guardian bellowed in laughter at Jack's futile attempts and struck Jack's sword, most deliberately. Jack's arms gave in under the weight of the behemoth as his knees bent to accommodate the guardian's weight. That weight quickly flew from Jack's overhead to his gut as the guardian kicked him back with his right leg. Jack's mouth spat out a good amount of saliva. It was as surprised as Jack himself that he had gotten hit. Like a horse, Jack realized that he had to rethink his tactics as the Guardian spurred him on to continue the fight like a rider spurs his horse to intensify the pace. Before Jack could even regain his balance, the guardian struck at him from just one side twice as fast and half as many times as his opponent had struck at him earlier, and that was enough to create just the opening he needed. Jack's guard was down for a split second. Such a miniscule window was not enough for the guardian to land a blow with the sword, but enough to bring down an anvil of a fist right across Jack's jaw. To this day I can describe the horrifying sound I heard. I did not need my noise amplifier to hear it, as it echoed across the graveyard- maybe even the island! A sickening sound of dry figs being snapped by an unconquerable force is the only way to describe the painful sound I had heard. But I had to keep my focus. Jack flew aback several meters, only to have the guardian dash above him and lunge at him to cut him in half! That moment of solace that I knew Jack enjoyed, that moment of free fall where he though he needn't have to worry about defending himself had come to an abrupt end not by the kiss of the sand underneath, but by the swishing sound of Hades' sword coming down to separate him from his legs. Jack raised his sword to meet him, and managed through some reserve of adrenaline to push his attacker back. But he would come to regret it as he had used up what little reserve he had to merely prolong a clearly mismatched fight. Both men landed on their feet not too far apart. Jack had attempted to catch his breath which had fled the battlefield back when none of his strikes struck his enemy. The guardian pressed the advantage and lunged at him. Having nothing but his flesh to defend himself from certain doom, Jack patiently withstood his enemies attack. He weaved left and ducked down, but the tire was visible in his sluggish grace. I saw his right hand move to defend his body, but it would not obey him. It remained still, and the sword grew heavy in his hands. It only managed to deflect two blows before the promise of pain felt lighter than the defense of the sword. He had gone through much that day, but more was still to come. Nothing, not even Mars' shield could fend off the next flurry of strikes. They came from all sides from which the noon day sun would shine. Three cold strikes with the sword spilled three streams of blood from Samurai Jack. Two from his weakening arms that could carry the sword no more, and one for his left hand, that could withstand his weight no longer. A right straight came bolting into his nose disfiguring it permanently into the shape of the blue freight with which it collided. A left uppercut punctured his stomach and whisked away whatever stamina was left in the beaten up rug that was once known as Samurai Jack. Finally, for the time being, a left hook came sundering down onto his now fractured right jaw sending him flying across the graveyard into what I assumed was his tomb—a piece of Mardonius' iron CPU. If that sophisticated AI, whose presence towered over both the guardian and his portal could not stop him, surely this wooden sandaled relic will not be able to inflict even the slightest of damage. As Jack flew into his grave, his blood rained down on the sands, finally purifying their redness with his own red blood. His blood glistened on the sand as it decorated the arena like confetti at a birthday party. His sword, marked his last stand, as it planted itself into the soil.

At long last: the death of Samurai Jack! The blood that was spilled here, poetically ends tonight with the spilling of your ancient blood Samurai! Taste the death you have long been promised! I levelled my sights on the Guardian's now evidently bald scalp and prepared to fire. My finger rested on the trigger, ready to pull it at an instant's notice, but there was one problem. Samurai Jack did not even land a single blow. His legend came to a crashing demise. I had hoped that he would at least _hurt_ the beast, but no. Not a single scratch befell him. Just then, as my bullet fasted itself to the trajectory of my shot, I heard a ruffling in the metal. It could not be, but oh it was! There was still fight left in that battered carcass, and indeed carcass is the precise term to use. What came from underneath that metal that had exploded into pieces was surely not the man whom I had grown attached to on the plateau. This man was torn apart. Battered. Broken. His sandals had begun to splinter causing cuts all across his leg. His legs were blue with bruises. His chest was scarred. His arms were bent. His once small mouth had swollen to one and a half times its regular size on the side where the punches landed. His nose was awry. His eyes were punched into his face. Indeed, the only thing that gave any indication were his eyebrows that still reeked of perseverance and determination. Then, as he pushed the metal from his back and I saw his garb. How cut it was it started to resemble- a night gown, and a rather alluring one. I began to see things rather differently. I saw _her_. Her long hair outstretched across her gorgeous face. Her hair that had usually been tied into a crisp bun, oh how unfurled and free it was now. Her stare of determination and her glamorous stance were all there. It was indeed she who danced with the demons on the mountain, but most importantly, it was she with who had a great fire in her heart bursting with passion. Only now did I realize that the fight had only just begun. She gave a look of determination before she saw a weapon just to her right there. It was a purple halberd, just the thing to allow her to fight from a distance! She was about half as encouraged to continue the fight as I was to watch her continue the fight! In my mind she had eclipsed my thoughts of concentration and replaced them with emotions that to this day I cannot describe. She twirled around with all the grace and elegance of that I had seen her display on that mountain a lifetime ago. All the while getting a feel for the weapon she now possessed. Little did she now it, but at that time she possessed my very being. I had enslaved myself to her as she had enslaved the halberd to her skillset. I could only fantasize about what other good uses that halberd could be put to after this duel ended in her favor. It would of course. It was two against one now. She drew her halberd against that monster in all readiness to continue the battle. With her outstretched hand she cast a shadow of determination and deadliness on the all-powerful goliath.

'Alright **brother** '

Brother. Brother. Brother. Brother. Brother. Brother. That's all I thought about for the next few seconds. I had snapped out of whatever witchcraft I was under. I had to keep my thoughts together. I had to maintain concentration if I wanted anything to do with becoming the best, most well paid, most respected bounty hunter in the land. I must, and indeed I did. I did not hear what was said as I fixed my head onto my shoulders. I saw then that the guardian wielded two trident daggers and stood in anticipation of Samurai Jack- the terrorist- as he ran up to him with his scavenged weapon.

Jack, despite all manners of reason, leapt up into the air as if his sandals were winged by Hermes himself. He raised his halberd up above his head to strike at the guardian. The foot of the halberd extended beyond his knees, while the blade tailed behind his mane as it fluttered in the wind. I can to this day remember thinking- every lion needs a mane, and no mane is as untamed as Samurai Jack's. His skirt- gee, his **gee** had been torn up to look just like a skirt giving some not too revealing peek at what treasures lay within. Now with the added disadvantage of his long, undone hair getting in the way of much-needed peripheral vision chances of victory slimmed further. Yet one could still feel a strong desire to support Jack. To root for him against such impossibly stacked odds, because his determination, his desire to win, outweighed all else—even the indominance of this bulk of a man. That is the key though. He is just a man. With enough force, surely the smaller man can overcome.

But it was not enough force this time. Jack swung from above to no avail, he swung from the side, again to no avail. The guardian now stabbed from above, but to his surprise his attack also came to no avail. Samurai Jack had sized a second wind. He moved and fought as if his nose was not broken. He leapt, slipped, and weaved like his legs had not been cut with a sword almost as sharp as his own. Most importantly, however, he fought as if the guardian had not gained an ounce in the psychological battle at all, and indeed he hasn't. It was Jack who was winning the psychological battle all along. The guardian was expecting to be fighting a husk at this point, but he was fighting Samurai Jack in all his glory, even if on the outside one could be mistaken for thinking it was a husk. Jack even had the audacity to fly right in front of the guardian's face to attack from his side. Jack's elegance was so perfect that I had not noticed that he had disarmed the guardian of one of his daggers! Neither I nor he could believe what we were seeing. After all that had transpired it was Jack, not the guardian, who was on the offensive.

Unfortunately, though, the Guardians defense was just as robust as it ever was. Jack's every attack failed. He attacked again from above, this time from the Guardian's right and again he met nothing but metal. He swept his halberd underneath catching nothing but air as the solid mass of the guardian lifted itself up weightlessly landing behind the samurai. Jack's senses were sharp as ever, and he heard him land there, and so swung back to cut his throat only to hear the clang of metal as both weapons crashed into each other. Jack increased the frequency of his attacks, and for once his attacks outpaced the Guardian's defenses. At last the blue man would bleed! As quickly as that thought popped into my head did I realize that the guardian's hue began to whiten. He had begun to slip and weave _even faster_ than Samurai Jack could attack. Anticipating this, Samurai Jack attacked twice in the same place in rapid succession. The Guardian's reflexes, would not fail him as he shielded his sunglasses with his trident dagger, repelling any hope of injury befalling him. Samurai Jack attacked a third time outstretching himself to his absolute extent, and the Guardian now relying mostly on his hind leg had to both lean away and block with his dagger to protect himself from harm. Had Jack been only one centimeter taller, perhaps he could have brought an end to the Guardian's miserable tenure as an impasse for all those who dared fight him. The dagger had increasingly become futile. Its trident design left the guardian's fingers exposed to amputation, but the guardian was willing to take that risk. He wanted to use the dagger not to kill Jack, but to tear at his gee and his soul. The more damage he inflicts with such an inferior weapon, the more Jack's confidence is shaken. It was a rather futile attempt at gaining ground in Jack's mind, which at this point was as solid as a medieval fortress preserving the crown jewels of warfare. Despite the grin on the guardian's face, he knew he was losing the fight. His intention was to attack, and yet he was on the defensive against a shell of a man wielding another fighter's weapon- one that the Guardian fought and destroyed! Jack again tried to lunge at his throat after being repelled numerous times, only to have the guardian lean back and arch his back into the sand itself. Now was Jack's opportunity to jump up and end him, and so he did. This time, he would meet neither steel nor flesh, but rather what he had intended to be the Guardian's tomb- Ironically another piece of Mardonious' CPU. I can only imagine how powerful this blue man is to be able to dismember Mardonious into such plentiful pieces, and how befitting Samurai Jack is to his legend that he is able to continue this impossible fight against such a capable warrior.

Jack looked at the wreckage that was clean of any blood before him and quickly darted his eyes a few meters to his left to find a great, herculean, blue-skinned mass planting itself from the sky. The guardian gave a satanic smile. Behind it there was only the intention to attack again with the daggers and tear open a larger, more vital part of Jack's body. There was no intention this time to bruise, there was only intention to shred. That grin had been almost incessantly drawn there ever since Jack's blood rained down onto the battlefield. The Guardian licked his lips in anticipation for his frenzy as he saw Jack's blood drip onto his sandals. Jack felt it. He felt his blood stirring anger within the beast, and so he prepared himself not for the worst, but for his counter. Four rapid cuts. Not a single strike. Jack had begun to read his opponent's fighting style. Two cuts came from the left, and two came from the right, therefore the next one had to come from the left, and so it did. He had deliberately stood with his knees bent forward and his head tilted backwards to look vulnerable to his opponent. His back was turned away from him. Such was the art of war—deception. The guardian took his chance and swung just where Jack had anticipated. Jack had his ear fine-tuned to listen for the direction of the dagger. His back bent forward while his head remained perfectly still, created just the opening he needed. Most of his hair was already resting along his spine, but what little hair that remained was forced now by gravity to fall back and rejoin the pack. Jack looked in the direction of the guardian from the side of his eyes, not to look at his opponent, but to look at the two strands of hair that he refused to send back with the rest of it. I did not notice all this at the time, it was only later that I realized that all this was calculated and deliberate. He actually could not see the guardian from where he stood. This was intentional, to deceive the guardian into letting his guard down more than he ought to. Jack was actually looking at those too seemingly stubborn, but actually most loyal and obedient locks of hair that made just enough space for his ears to ear the swishing of the dagger as it cut through the air on the way to his jugular vein. He maintained his composure, slowing his heart rate. He waited for just the right moment until finally it came. He saw those two locks of hairs motion to forward. They warned him that the strike was coming from precisely the northeast. Although Jack could have done this without looking, he simply could not take the chance against such a worthy foe. Upon exacting the confirmation he needed he shot his halberd up to where the knife was expected, and this time it was the mammoth's attack that was met with the deer's blade, and just as elegantly as the deer lured the lion in, so too did it toss away its fang like paper in the wind. The guardian was disarmed. Now was his chance. Had it been any man other than Samurai Jack this battle would have ended long ago, but in all his skill and ability, Jack made this fight look easy. Jack summoned all his might and jumped up at a degree angle. His loyal ear was now engulfed by the mass of hair that that lay in wait on his back. His eyes fixated on his prey. The guardian's face looked astray. No more did that grin make way. Jack knew how far his enemy was. He knew how long his halberd was. He could not miss. This was it. The final blow. His right knee jerked up to add weight to his blow. His right leg propelled him further towards the enemy. His lungs could not carry his vengeance louder. Now, with a true cry of the Samurai his will be done! Jack closed his eyes in solemn victory. At last.

Strike! There was no clang of metal. The guardian has been vanquished Jack thought. But it was not to be. Before his jump could come to an everlasting conclusion it was abruptly ended by a smack. Jack pushed further into the halberd, attempting to make some way into the guardian's chest, but it would not budge. The guardian had caught the halberd in midair before the blade could cut into his chest. Such is anticipation- the art of war.

'Pretty good.' The ogre said. 'But not good enough!' The guardian snapped the halberd in half and tossed away the blade.

Now it was the guardian who had progressed in the psychological realm. He had taken the Samurai from a decisive blow and tossed him back into the mud unarmed, and back precisely where he had begun—level with a beast that was three times his equal.

The guardian had decisively redrawn the battle map as he begun to swing at Jack with his own weapon. When the halberd broke, I saw Jack look at where his sword was implanted. I saw the look of dismay when he realized that it was too far away for a safe retrieval. The guardian knew this as he proceeded to shapeshift Jack's appearance in his mind. He stopped seeing his as a man to torment, but as a drum to beat. He swung at him with both sides of the broken halberd- the blunt and the blade. Up-down-left-right-diagonally-down to up- up to down- sideways, but none would meet the skin of the elusive drum. Clearly the Guardian had given up the psychological game. He was letting his rage get the better of him. Jack knew this. He felt his anger. Jack was tormenting the guardian by preventing him from landing a decisive blow. Every time the guardian missed from this position of dominance, was a strike to his ego. If his ego came to a burn, so too would his strategy, and when that happens his life will soon follow, and finally Jack would return to the past. I contemplated taking the shot then and there. I had begun to respect Jack, and quite honestly I had begun to doubt my ability to destroy him. A man who is able to sense the earth's movements would surely be able to sense my movements. I began to grow more intimated of the idea of attempting to kill either of them, because the one that survives _this_ is no ordinary man. I have never in all my days of hunting encountered such men, who even in inequality pose such an awesome fight.

Whilst slipping and weaving against the guardian's attacks, Jack's mind had never ceased. His perseverance was impeccable. From certain victory, to precarious position and still, his mind does not fall into panic. His mind works in mysterious, strategic ways. He saw a shield just behind him, but he could not fall back lest he be thrown back by a force not dissimilar to cannon ball. No he had to get creative. At first opening between the incessant barrage of strikes, Jack leapt up into the air behind the guardian. The guardian saw this, and reacted just as expected. He shifted his intense weight over to the other side in an instant, but that instant was just what Jack needed: a sense of time. If he could time it right, he could roll just over the guardian's feet at such an angle where it would be impossible for him to strike the samurai without shifting his weight. When the guardian turned around to face him, and lifted the bladed end of the halberd to cut him down, jack did the simplest thing possible. He counted. He had known that it took ¼ if his own breath for the Guardian to shift his weight, and so he had to count 1/5 to roll just in front of his toes to avoid contact with the blade, and that's just what he did. He rolled over to the shield and made an utter embarrassment of the man who saw himself as some sort of demigod.

With this Jack had done two things. One, he aggravated the guardian. With greater anger, there is less strategy. Second, he infuriated the guardian, and with that the guardian unleashes more and more power. The latter would be Jack's undoing, he just didn't know it yet.

Jack's strategic fighting style had not changed throughout the fight. He was constantly adapting to his opponent. The guardian failed to recognize this. He started to succumb to his own rage. Slowly his strategy became more and more brutish until there would be no strategy at all. At this stage in the fight, the guardian was relying ¾ on brute force and only ¼ on strategy. If Jack could continue to push him to make more foolish decisions, then he would be able to put an end to him. But he had not reached that point yet. While Jack rolled away to safety, he never lost sight of the shields that were just marginally closer to him than the sword. He would still not risk going for the sword, lest that spell doom for him, and failure for his quest which was indeed far more valuable to him than his own life.

Drawing on what little strategy he had, the guardian distracted Jack from his objective as he yelled from across the battlefield:

'Alright! Dodge this!'

Jack was forced to stop his evasive maneuver to look back at what abomination the Guardian had conjured up and lo and behold it was a massive machine gun! A gun whose rapid fire was so infinite that it was described as the gun that spat out the light of death. But you see, dear reader, this is where the guardian's strategy came to an end. This is where I made my decision that at the first available opportunity I would shoot at the guardian and pray from what comes next, because even though he may very well survive my bullet, I will have caused enough of a distraction to let Jack finish him. The guardian had dug his own grave. The machine gun the guardian drew, although it had a rapid rate of fire, it had the accuracy of a sponge. It had the recoil of a sawed-off shotgun, maybe worse. The only reason the guardian pulled this weapon up was because of his absolute hatred and unfathomable desire to erase Samurai Jack from this earth. This was the same hatred Jack thrived on. He used their hate to pull the wool over his enemy's eyes before they ever had a chance to stop him. That is why the all-powerful Aku can never defeat him—he simply lets his hate get the best of him. Otherwise, Jack is miniscule compared to Aku. The guardian drew this weapon to intimidate Jack into doing something foolish. Such tactics might work on the minds of lesser foes like Mealanius or Mardonius- sorry old friends but it's true- but not Jack. Jack was at a higher level of understanding. He had trained long and hard to face opponents that far outrank him in brute strength, but his training ensured that no foe would outwit his mind. The idea that sprang into consciousness in the guardian's mind was as simple as 'YOU. STOP. ME CARRY BIG GUN WITH TWO HANDS. HA HA!' And that logic is not flawed, that is quite a big gun, but in this scenario a well-timed grenade towards the shields would have done a much better job. I could have done it myself, but I knew where I stood. I was no match for Samurai Jack alone. So in an attempt to overpower the Samurai, the guardian had allowed the samurai's intellect to overpower him. Granted, the samurai did look up from his evasive maneuver, but the bullets never hit their mark.

Recognizing the caliber of weapon he faced as being the same type that the ultra-bots had used just months prior, Jack took his position and fixated his eyes on the guardian's arms. Jack knew just how tremendously heavy they were. He could recall it when he used one to shoot down one of the ultrabots whilst using X-Tors cybernetic arm. Even then, he felt them to be as heavy as the burden of being stuck in time. Naturally, then, even for a men with rocks for arms, such a weapon would be remarkably heavy. When Jack saw those blue tombstone-arms jostle just slightly upwards, he knew that the bullets were about to be spat out imminently. At that point, Jack did what any sane person would do. He transferred his weight from his outstretched right leg onto his bent left leg and got out of the way! Just as simple as that a pre-medieval Samurai warrior outmatched a futuristic gun wielding giant. Simply by timing it right, Jack guaranteed that every bullet that would succeeded this initial barrage would always be one step behind him. Samurai Jack knew he was no superman, although his opponents would disagree with him. He knew he was just flesh and blood. He could not out run the speed of sound, he could only outthink his opponents whom until now were quite dimwitted, including this monstrosity before him.

Just when Jack leapt out of harms' way, his shadow was cast with a hailstorm of bullets flying in all directions, not because of their lethality but because of the recoil. The guardian couldn't hold the weapon still! Partly because it was so heavy, but also because he had so much anger within him that he just kept shooting blindly. He even began firing medium-range missiles against one man! Jack maintained the fight, running towards the shields that lay just short of the sword. He made sure to run in a circular direction because that way, the guardian would always have to shift his weight, a process that in turn reduces his accuracy! As he ran, his robe fluttered behind him, dragging him down. He knew he was at a rush for time. Every millisecond would count not only towards saving his life, but towards ending the guardians. He made sure every other step was wider and wider in a deliberate attempt to tear a small opening in his gee. That small opening came in no time, but it was a priceless tactic, one that saved him precious seconds in running time. All the while Jack was under constant missile and gunfire, his mind raced at a much faster pace than his legs ever could. Jack noticed that every four seconds there was a missile explosion behind him. Ironically though, it wasn't the sound that gave it off, but the shockwave. He felt it in the unevenness of the ground slightly, but he knew it when the wind in his hair began to blow in the opposite direction blinding his vision momentarily. Quite luckily for him, however, the guardian wasn't intending to give away that hint. That was just his animalistic rage. If he was then he would have timed it at a different pattern, one that would blow Jack's hair into his face just as he ran past the shurikens, but unfortunately for the guardian Jack spotted the shurikens and grabbed them just before the missiles made their anticlimactic entry. With one eye on the shields, and another on the guardian, Jack began throwing the shurikens. One after the other until all five were hurled at the guardian. The idea was to draw his fire whilst quickly darting for the shields to take cover, perhaps even set up a window to grab the sword. The guardian however, still had some semblance of tactic left in him. He drew a sub machine gun from his inventory and began to fire at the shurikens that made their way towards his head, diverting them away from his head, and diverting Jack's attention from the shields. However, firing at two separate targets took its toll. It was a tactical move on the guardians' part, but not a strategic one. He had reduced his accuracy even further, practically turning his gunfire into nothing more than a practical effect. Despite the brief setback, Jack safely made it to the shields and took cover within them. He held the shields close to his body and very diligently ran towards the very same spot he and the guardian fought together with the halberd. Then, his sandals aided him to a screeching halt and his shields gave him sufficient protection from the bullets to come. All he had to do now was wait. There was ample time for him to count the seconds until the next missile barrage would come, which is again a misguided move on the guardian's part. He could have very simply maintained fire using the LMG which had a magazine of well over 500 bullets until that rusty shield gave way, but he was too impatient; too hot headed. He wanted Jack dead NOW. Of course, that's what every opponent Jack faces wants, but Jack was patient. He knew when to strike and when to hold off, and now was the time to hold off. He ducked under the protection of the shields until the time was right. The bullets sang a symphony on his shields, but he would not allow that to deter him. One. The lead rain continued. Two. The led rain intensified. Three. The bullets began ripping through the shield. Four. The bullets stopped, and the fireworks began. Jack held his calm, until the tress of hair that rested so calmly for the past four seconds began to pick up a breeze. That's when he knew it was time to strike. Jack leapt up into the air and kicked the first rocket away. He carried the shield with him just in case it would explode, at least he would have something to defend himself with. Thankfully for him, though his plan worked to a hitch. The rocket flew right back where it came from. Jack spun in the air aiming to catch the second rocket kicking it towards colossus just as he did the first this time with his left leg. I saw the look on both men's faces. I saw the look of astonishment on the guardian as he saw his projectiles coming back to end him. I saw him try to reach for the submachine gun to no avail. It was a direct hit. Two missiles found their targets. This was my chance. I aimed my rifle right at that leviathan's head and shot twice. That was two .50 Cal sniper rifle shots to the head, and two missiles. He was dead. It was over. Now, I can turn my attention to my real target, or so I thought. I looked at him as he landed on his feet just as he had planned. His hair lagged behind upright as a flickering flame when he landed on his feet and reformed his battle-ready posture. His shields remained intact, and his eyes fixated on the smoke rising from the smolder of ashes that once made up that mass of a thing known only as the guardian. Jack stood in triumph. I saw the look on his face when he landed. It was at first a look of anticipation, then a look of unmistakable dominance. It was not aggression, rather it was timid rigidity to do what was necessary. It was the pose of a samurai, and a most honorable one at that. Now his hair covered the small blisters he had on his face from the few bullets that managed to graze him. It was such a symbolic, heroic, victorious pose. I still remember its details to this day. Sweat fell like a waterfall from the shock of hair that cascaded down his right side. He had one forelock divulged into four locks all of which tuft from his hairline. One rejoined the mane cascading down his right side. One decorated his bleeding chin as it locked firmly in place in anticipation of battle. The other two crossed his left eye and tangled themselves with quaff that hung over his ear right down to his left forearm. Both sides of his mane had new highlights on them, ones I hadn't noticed before. Their tips were colored crimson, and they only added to the red hue of the sands. His back stood upright, his shields stayed steady. His eyes fixed on the heap of ash he hoped to find there. His eyebrows protruded down hawkishly like a predator stalking its prey. His face read like a book. He was daring him to get up. He was demanding it. Challenging him to fight him after that. If he had survived that, he was expecting nothing less than a surrender. His robe whistled in the wind, albeit tattered and torn apart. His right side was facing away from ground zero, preparing to be shielded in case he lunged at him. Even now, at victory his mind raced with possibilities—contingency plans—for if that thing was still alive. All that evaporated when I could swear I looked in the mirror. He and I had mirrored facial expressions. As the smoke cleared, there was no ash. Only the silhouette of an angry, powerful man. Jack and I were stunned. My plan had come to shatters and so has his. He was taken aback in shock and awe at how such a thing could be possible. He had committed the first mistake of his fight: he began to doubt his own mind. He jerked himself back involuntarily. His eyes widened to the size of planets. His breath gave away his fear as he imprisoned the air around him in a cavern deep within his lungs. His eyebrows jumped up and curved in fear, trying perhaps to flee from Jack's face lest they get cut up along with it. Jack was absolutely stunned. Nothing he could do with these rusty shields could match what those rockets did. He needed to get the sword. But how? He couldn't think. He was in a state of disbelief. It was as if he'd seen not only a ghost, but his own ghost! The hair that once so gallantly rested on both shoulders and back, now covered his face as if competing with itself to get a glimpse of what had happened. That face is forever scarred in my mind. That face of horror on a man who was said to hold no fear. On the face where there were only three forelocks, now there were six, each with their own split ends clambering to see what has caused their host such fear. It was impossible. I could not have been more shocked myself. Two .50 caliber rounds, and there he was still alive. Smoke rose from his body, but it seemed for all that dramatic flair the only casualty was the suit which had all but disintegrated. Even the sunglasses remained untouched. Now we know for a fact that this thing is more than human, although humanoid. No one, not even Samurai Jack himself could survive such an explosion.

This point here was the crux of the battle. As surprising as it may sound, Jack had the guardian exactly where he wanted him when the guardian leapt at him wanting to tear him limb from limb. The guardian lunged at Jack after proclaiming that Jack had destroyed his favorite suit. He hadn't thought about how to face the samurai, he hadn't thought about anything really. All he had in his mind was 'KILL.' This was as close to fighting a monotonous droid as Jack was going to get with this guy. The guardian was without weapons, without armor, and most importantly without thought. He was out for vengeance for hurt pride. He was angry. He had lost the psychological battle when he let a suit dictate his actions. Jack on the other hand was playing a very tactical game. He had the perfect opportunity to throw his shields at him to slow him down, quickly dart over to his sword and fight the beast on his terms. But no, he hadn't thought of that. He hadn't even thought of throwing one shield at the leviathan's knee and keeping the other for defense whilst he grabbed the sword. Instead, he sacrificed a winning strategy for emotion's sake. I can't say I blame him. A man displaced through centuries of time almost kills a hulk of a man twice on the shores of a time portal with the power to send him home, only to find that not only is his opponent not physically scarred but is charged with rage and obsessed to the farthest degree with tearing disfiguring his corpse. No one, not even Samurai Jack could act rationally in those conditions. Jack played a game that was entirely strategic, now he threw caution to the wind and fought a game that was entirely emotional. In essence, he Odysseus yielded to the Cyclops' terms. Meanwhile the guardian fought with all his heart. He didn't have any caution to begin with, he had a strategy of anticipating what Jack would do. Every time Jack eluded his grasp he became angrier and more predictable until now, he snapped. He was now at his most brutish and most predictable. By charging at a man who possesses several times his strength without his sword, Jack sacrificed his queen for a pawn and tossed his victory away. It was at that moment that Jack was defeated by the guardian; when he succumbed to his passions, and that is the tragic flaw Samurai Jack has always had. Only now do I understand this, years after. I have read his adventures and have become enthralled with his legend, only to find that he had been given multiple opportunities to return to the past, only to waste them away with foolish gambles like this one.

It was however quite the epic scene. I remember laying down my weapon knowing that it would be of no use to me. Samurai Jack was a dead man. It was at that moment that Samurai Jack earned my undying respect. I would still have liked to kill him, but I would have given him a proper burial after. Although at that time, I was sure the guardian would attend to that.

The guardian yelled louder than I thought a human voice could yell. I could dare say that he roared like an animal more so than a man. Jack who is known for battle cries that fill the weakest hearts with most bronze courage could muster no more than whisper when compared to that shriek of agony let out by that neanderthalic miscreation.

Oh the sympathy I felt for that poor naïve creature. That poor shell of a man that now only resembled Samurai Jack. Samurai Jack is more than a man dressed in ancient garbs with luscious long hair and a cry to bring a tear to Jupiter's eye. Samurai Jack is a cause and the will to exact it skillfully. This man was an unshaved, craven young man with some sort of death wish. Perhaps it would be merciful of me to shoot him now before he was at the receiving end of a merciless death adorned with unspeakable horrors inclusive of dismemberment, cannibalism, and unspeakable behavior. The man before me who professed to be Samurai Jack at that moment had his robes tattered, his hair fluttering in the wind, and his torso exposed to whatever punishment Frankenstein's Monster was willing to dish out. The only thing that could convince me that this was still the Samurai I have grown attached to over the years was his willingness to put himself in harm's way, although the Jack I knew always did so for the right reasons, not suicidal ones. This suicidal fool was a pretender, nothing more. Not even his astonishingly accurate eyebrows could convince me that he was Samurai Jack. To this day I enjoy repeating that scene in my head again and again, because that is when the Samurai Jack I know was born- when the guardian beat some sense into him. That, and partly because his I enjoy seeing that charlatan endure such pain. Serves him right for pretending to be someone he's never going to be. But deep down I still now that that is still Samurai Jack. Of course at the time I was mightily entertained by his suffering, but looking back at it I do feel some sympathy for him for Jack had surrendered himself to death by punching bag and the guardian was his sparring partner.

They landed opposite each other at the mouth of the portal. The game lost its intellectual element. They had both regressed to brutes opposing each other. An indomitable forces had met an immovable object just moments ago. That which was the indomitable will of Samurai Jack, however had betrayed him into callously throwing his life away like this. A closer analogy to describe the sight before me was a battle between savages, and the mightier savage, the one with the more muscle mass, always wins as is the Darwinian Principle. I watched in horror as I anticipated the outcome. The hellion abnormality proceeded to smash in whatever direction the poor deer had found itself in. The deer hadn't had a clue what it had gotten itself into, unable to find the slightest opening to defend itself, always seeking refuge behind the rusty iron shields. The guardian was relentless. Wave after wave he flattened those metal shields into rubber, until he exerted some of his frustration through a simultaneous smash with both fists rocking the earth beneath him, which had already given way under his sheer weight. The vile instigator removed both anvils from the plastic plates that he had smashed and looked to see what mark his violence bore, only to find the deer persistent, peeking through the battered things, still determined to fight this unwinnable fight. Yet, if the thought would occur, if the wisdom would resurface, there might be some chance yet. I could see his mental faculties had begun to rewire, but I fear it was too late. He had gotten himself in such a cornered state, that there is practically no outcome that does not involve his death at this point. Jack did the only thing he could. He pricked, no, pinched the beast with his plastic plate of a shield. The guardian didn't even budge. He chuckled as he ripped the disc from Jack's hand and at the thing whole! To him, with his body swelling in adrenaline, Jack's attack came as a massage, and that shield as an afternoon snack. But there was still determination there. There was still some thought process, albeit an irrational one. Jack's breath escaped faster than he could regain it. His panting grew out of control. His balance became shoddy. His legs forfeit the rigidity they once hand and resembled a quivering strand of spaghetti. Indeed, his sandals kept him upright more that his own legs. Jack slipped and weaved, but he never regained his form. When he used to dodge two punched at a time, now the guardian would just barely miss his ear. Instead, those boulders of his began getting more and more entangled within Jack's crowning glory. That mop of his remained loyal. It still did its job. With each strike it caught, it slowed the pace of the hellion's thundering blows. The only thing Jack could do now, was defend himself to the sword. He couldn't turn and run to it lest he be strung up by the legs. He had to rely on the one, flimsy shield, and have the guardian punch himself to his own doom, which was a possibility had the shield been made of anything but the scrap it was made of. It was too late. Jack leap back towards the sword, but the Guardian's lust to destroy him had him get there quicker. The momentum was too great. The shield gave way, and so too did Jack's dreams. With one fell hook, Jack flew to his grave. Now disarmed, and resource-less, the Guardian seemed to regain some sense. He seemed to cool off. Had Jack only taken advantage of that, perhaps we wouldn't be in this predicament today. Of all actors in this play, it was the Guardian who extended Jack the olive branch.

As Jack sat on the ground, bleeding in the sand, he frowned in anguish and let himself pant for a while before remarking to his oppressor: 'I have never met a foe with such strength and skill.' His hair hung back as a cape revealing just how red his face had become. That redness was partly due to the cuts he'd endured, but most of it was from frustration. He was red not with rage but with restriction. The restriction of being just inches away from the past, and what's between him and his goal is a living, breathing, brick-wall. He said what he said in a futile attempt at flattery. Nothing more. Perhaps if the Guardian let such words get to his head, he would let his guard down, but it was Jack's guard that was about to be reduced into dust.

'I told you man! It ain't gonna happen! Now why don't you leave before you really get hurt!?' The Guardian said to the skeleton on the ground hoping that perhaps he would be disenfranchised with this sadistic dance of death the two had participated in. That is when Jack's passions truly got enflamed. He stood up again without a care for his own safety. Some might say that this was heroic, but it was actually the most irresponsible thing he'd ever done. He had risked the livelihood of not only himself, but all of us. With his arms outstretched, and his chest battered to its core Jack stood up and hunched forward letting his mop come down against his face showing the shadow or allure of a horribly disfigured soul declaring 'Never! I must return to the past!' before racing up against the Guardian to end the fight for his life. I have seen this scene before. I have seen that passion before. That was just moments ago when he ran up with those rusted plates to defend himself. Now with no armor, no weapon, no shield, and nothing to lose he ran up once again to the battle, once more into the fray he and his lost cause only to be met again by the immovable brick wall that was this unforgiving menace. His geta sandals now left imprints of his own blood on the sands, the blood that had pooled into the samurai-shaped hole he charged out of. Jack jumped up to kick him in the face with his bloodied sandals, but the guardian tossed him right back into the hole where came from like the garbage he had devolved into. He brought his foot down against him, both literally and metaphorically, but Jack's passion, not his body rolled him out of the way. His body was broken. His fists were made of fluff, but he was determined. He punched the Guardian several times. The poor fool. He thought he was making progress, but I could tell the Guardian was letting him do it. Maybe he liked the feeling of being massaged by the most wanted man in the land. Maybe he wanted him to let his guard down, but any lower than this and he would just resort to striptease. This had become a sick joke. The guardian caught Jack's left hand and just snapped his wrist like a sprig. Jack now, for the first time in this entire fight felt pain. I saw it in in his eyes. He did not weep at his broken wrist. He wept at his inevitable defeat. He let out a hushed wail of despair and the Guardian now knew that his meal was ready. He punched him onto Melanius' tomb, almost causing me to lose my balance. He punched Jack into it, and I could see Jack physically surrender. He wanted to get up, but his body simply wouldn't. He was done for. The tomb would now house two bodies, but this perverse gargantuan was a vicious sadist. He wanted to sap the fight out of his opponent more so than he wanted death to come to them. He saw that Jack wanted to fight, so he would beat the will out of him, yet by doing so he in fact baked the sense into him. The heat of the moment and his passions were all the flames necessary. Jack had become nothing more than a deadbeat drum, and the Guardian was the drummer. I cannot find the words to explain the brutality of what I witnessed. Just punch after punch. I can remember crying internally 'just kill him already!' but no. I can see now that the source of the Guardian's strength was the amount of pain he inflicts.

Having been literally punched into a corner, Jack had grown increasingly unrecognizable. The only thing that appeared distinctive of him now was not his eyebrows nor his cries of agony which had shrunk softer and softer with each punch. No, what gave away his identity was the constant vibration in his body. The vibration of internal conflict between the mind of a warrior, and the broken back and body of a broken man. The guardian simply had to silence that inner voice. He tossed him over to where Jack found the Halberd, and again Jack tried to rise up, only to be crushed by the weight of his dishonorable foe. Jack's chest and body were under the guardian's feet who attempted to knock the will back into his heart by using Jack's body as a human trampoline. Again punch, after punch after punch and Jack still would not submit. The grin that had decorated that brawny bruiser's face had become a feverish frown of hatred and anger. The thought's that circled behind those red glasses 'WHY WON'T YOU GIVE UP!?'

Finally, the powerhouse picked up the wreck before him, tossed him into the air and punched him into a pulp before kicking him into the ground, and at last that pesky vibration was no more. At long last the great Samurai Jack had lost the will to live, and has submit to his ailing, aching, cracking, bleeding, body. That body which resembled a decomposition of perfection lay there in ruins and shambles. Everything nimble about him was gone. He lay there in a rested, almost peaceful state. The blood ran profusely through his hair that acted more of a tombstone now. His arms were outstretched awaiting the warmth of the grim reaper, and his legs swollen like sausages. His robes were tattered, and his posture unrecognizable. This was the end for him. This was the bitter release of surrender. He lay down, unwilling and unable to continue, a star fallen from the heavens into this pitiful state. The guardian had to be sure he'd killed him. He just couldn't know if this warrior would get up again. Unlike the others, who had stayed down after the fight this one was different, he thought. He lifted a massive boulder over his head and towered just above his prey. He intended to crush him under the weight of it. To flatten his physique along with his will. Surely that is the only thing that can keep him from arising.

Now. I'll take my shot now. Surely then the boulder would befall him. I leveled my scope again at the beast. I had my sights set on him right between the glasses. I could be the man who saved Samurai Jack here and now. The bullet was cocked and ready. It was in the chamber ready to be let out and to wreak havoc. 'But wait.' I thought. 'This man survived two missiles and two to the head. What makes me so sure that this would do anything to him? Maybe I'll just annoy him. No, it's too risky I thought. I know! I'll throw a grenade just as he's about to crush the Samurai! I lifted my fragmentation grenade up to my ear and got ready to pull the pin. But wait. What if my lob doesn't get close enough? Do I want to risk ending up like that? What if the grenade explodes underneath the boulder, kills Jack, splinters the rocks on the Guardian's face, giving me time to shoot him up with my shotgun! Yeah that could work! So that's what I planned to do. Only I didn't account for one thing. The time portal. It… it yelled.

I know it doesn't make any sense, but when the Guardian spoke to Jack's corpse and told him:

'Fool! You will never gain entrance to" the thing balked at him. It scolded him. It... Rang! The time portal… it's a sentient being! It knows! This is why it has a guardian… he must be the last of some kind of religious order that guards these things. I see now. I understand.

'Oh. Alright. I understand.' And just like that the Guardian's rage subsided and he returned to his neutral state of defense (which made my job that much harder). The same state he was at just moments ago before all this unfolded. He whistled for the grave collector to come to him and lo and behold it was the same beast that brought that poor terrorist here. The same one that inadvertently caused him so much unneeded, yet direly requested pain.

The guardian, with all compassion carried Jack onto his winged hearse and watched as the red pterodactyl flew back to where it came from. I tucked my grenade back into my pouch and looked intensely not at Jack, but at my real target. He turned away and spoke to his god and I saw a vision that changed my life.

Friends, bear with me for this is the most absurd thing I shall write here. I saw in that screen of doom and gloom an old Caucasian man with a long black beard. His scars were numerous on his arms and face. He wore a long red cape, and what I can only describe as the remnants of an ancient kimono—informally called a gee. This man had seen many battles. He had fought many foes. He had endured many pains. He had failed so many times, that he had honed the art of war, and mastered its every tenant. He knew how to keep his emotions in check in the heat of battle, and from that knew how not only survive any encounter, but win. His eyes were narrow and his eyebrows reeked of determination. His nose showed signs of having been broken at least three dozen times, and reformed through basic means. This was the same man who was put on the winged hearse, only with years of experience. The years of experience he lacked here that could have granted him victory many a time. Jack, I now realize, was at least a decade younger than I am. What he lacked in life experience, he made up for in combat prowess. Here, right now, was the only time his prowess failed him in all his years. As for the man on the screen, he had all the skills of Samurai Jack and all the experiences of a thousand warriors combined. Between every wrinkle of experience there was a cut with either a sword, spear, droid, or bullet. There was a champion.

'You can't use it yet, Samurai Jack.' The guardian said acknowledging the draw. 'Not yet. Not yet.' He said.

Though I too was an emotional youth that day. I wanted to be the best so much that in blinded my judgement. I could not see that my attempts were inevitably in vain. I was predestined to fail this day, but I would not have it. I did not come all this way, endure all this expense, just to see my plans evaporate before my eyes. I went in guns blazing against that behemoth, throwing every care into the wind. I, like Samurai Jack, had nothing to lose. I thought maybe the element of surprise would protect me, but now. All I recall, is that my bullets were like rubber to him. He turned, grimaced, picked me up and that's all I can remember. Thirty years and I've been trying to remember how he got me, and to this day I do not know. I only recall what happened next.

There I was in a wooden cage. On all sides but my rear the plain was covered in snow. I was at the peak of that mountain we had flown past whilst getting to the graveyard. It must be. Where else could it be? The cage was tightly bound together by rope. I awoke with pains all over my body. By head ached, my front teeth were missing, which made it very difficult to chatter my teeth as each time I did I gulped in some hearty portions of liquid iron. I couldn't breathe from my nose nor could I see clearly out of my left eye. My words fumbled every time I tried to speak, my legs limped behind me when I walked, my chest was clawed open and I could see two of my ribs with my own eyes. It was not my best moment, but as I lay there in pain I saw before me a Caucasian man lying on the snowy ground. His long locks neatly tucked underneath his neck cushioned his rest, and his blood froze in the cold. His kimono was tattered and he lay there peacefully asleep in the blistering cold. It was him. Samurai Jack. I could tell right away because of the katana buried in the snow next to him. Only the diamond encrusted hilt and part of the sheathe were visible. The rest submerged in the ice. His body ached and smelled of sweat, even here on this snowy peak. Blood dripped from every pore of his and every other pore of mine. But my arrogance got the better of me. I did not search for my medicinal kit. Even here, within the confines of a frosty grave, I reached for my hidden dagger. Jack was not even within my reach. I aimed to cut these ropes to that barred me my freedom, and quickly do the same with his jugular vein. As I began to cut I began to hear a soft beeping sound.

'Beep.'

'Beep'

'Beep'

I didn't care much for it. I knew it was a bomb, but I also knew that my wounds would carry me away anyway. The least I could do, was take that terrorist with me. Then, without an instants warning, that corpse reanimated itself with a jerking sit-up motion. He groaned in agony as he got up, though it was not for his pain but for his failure. Just then, a device displayed an unwelcomed sight. A small device submerged just two meters away from him displayed a tall, muscular man with blue skin in a dark suit. From behind those red glasses a voice spoke:

'You fought well Samurai Jack.'

Jack gave a short sigh and tried to reach for his sword.

'You!' he said underneath the pain.

'Don't worry Samurai, I haven't come to inflict further pain on you _yet_. I've come to give you a choice. See that man over there?' he said pointing to me.

Jack looked over to me with his hair fluttering in the wind and his chest aching in pain forcing him to bend down a little bit. His right eye had a scar running down his face to his mouth, one that I hadn't seen earlier, but certainly consistent with the old man from the portal. 'It really is him', I remember thinking to myself.

Jack looked back at the guardian who said to him:

'That man is one of Aku's assassins, sent here to destroy you!'

'Aku!' Jack yelled restoring his posture and vigor. Jack drew his sword and prepared to leap.

'But I've taken care of him for you. All you need to do is escape before the bomb in that cage detonates.'

'No!' I cried in despair. 'No, no, no, no, no, please Samurai don't listen to him! He's lying, please, I'm innocent!' I begged from the within the cage, hanging on to the bars for dear life. Just then the beeps intensified.

'BEEP BEEP'

'BEEP BEEP'

'BEEP BEEP'

'You have ten seconds.' The guardian said. 'Good luck.'

Without a second thought, that broken man raced towards me sword in hand. This is what I had trained for. This is the moment I was waiting for. This was my chance to enter history. In my ignorant naiveté I thought that he was coming to kill me, and take the glory for himself. Perhaps add a notch to that life draining sword of his. As he ran closer, and closer the beeps grew frequenter and my resolve grew steadier. I would become the martyr that killed Samurai Jack. In death I shall gain eternal life! I drew my dagger and flung it through the iron bars. In those pivotal moments, Jack's facial expression changed. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the blade hurling towards his left eye. His mouth opened in surprise, but his legs continued to press forward. 'He thinks he can kill me with his bare hands the monster! Ha!' I stood there fully expecting my blade to pierce that thick skull of his and give me the achievement of my bounty hunting career. What I instead saw was a resurgence like no other. Jack weaved ever so slightly to the right allowing the knife only to graze his cheek. I looked in horror was what I thought was impending doom coming my way. His sword in hand, he raised up and rushed it down onto the roof of my cell. I stood there in horror, seeing my life flash before me. All those sleepless nights, all those wasted opportunities rushed before me as quickly as that sword came down over me. That blade which had ended many a life. That infamous sword that had every bounty hunter dreading their next day came down on my head and I didn't feel a thing. The cage came crashing down and in a matter of moments I was face to face with the very man I wanted to destroy. He grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me to where he once was, burying me in the snow. I quickly sat up in an unneeded attempt to save myself and I saw Samurai Jack running outside of the cage with his arms outstretched. Before I could reason why he ran like a thundering sound erupted and ejected any thoughts I had from my mind. A great flash of light blinded my vision, and for an instance... I felt warmth. The beeping had silencing. The bomb had detonated.

I looked in horror as I saw the black smoke plume and exhaust away from my blistering cage. The fire shot up and proceeded to melt the snow. Then from within the smoke, there was the silhouette of a white-skinned man kneeled on the ground. His head tilted down, his knees interlocked, and his arms outstretched in the watery snow. His back was blackened and fleshy. Fires sparked in every muscle and tendon. He grunted loudly and repeatedly as I had come to that guilty realization of misjudgment. Samurai Jack saved my life, even though I had attempted to end his.

He proceeded to shovel snow onto his back attempting to stop the blistering pain he felt from being cooked alive in the snow. When he finally stopped he struggled to stand again. His kimono's torso component was gone. His face was mired with looks of pain and anguish. I sat in the snow in shock and awe at what I had just witnessed, and he did not even care to look at me. His hair whistled in the wind, even as it caught some fire. His looked at his bloodied hands and looked to the sword next to me. The explosion must have snatched in from him. He walked then next to me and looked at me sternly. He said not a word. He knelt down beside me and from within the snow in front of him he picked up the knife that had missed its mark. He looked over to the distance and said:

'If I make noise, finish me with my sword.'

He stretched his arms forth and said a short prayer. I could not hear it clearly, but years of pondering lead me to this skewed decoding:

'Years of sorrow

Set me free

Blistering snow

Guide me'

He sent the knife plunging towards his heart, only to have it cling once again. He didn't open his eyes. Only his facial expressions could reveal the pain he felt. His teeth curled out of his mouth. His nose wrinkled in the cold. His eyes almost retreated into his mind as if it interrogate the thing. His eyebrows protruded forward in anguish, as he let out a horrible scream and tried again to end his life. This time, his dagger did not cling. His aim was true and his desire was devotion. His blade, met only his sword. His sword that was in my hands. He looked at me in surprise and disgust.

'I have no desire to fight.' He said. 'Let me depart with honor.'

'I can't let you do this Samurai.'

'I must.' He said

'No, I know what you're doing at this is not seppuku. Seppuku is reserved for those have failed, you have not failed.'

'I have failed at EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER ASPIRED TO DO!' he unloaded his anger at me, his eyes staring right through me and his voice cracking though my soul echoing there to this very day.

'Please… let me go. I am finished.'

'No.' I said adamantly. 'I can't let you do this. I was wrong about you.'

Jack looked at me plainly now after trying to shut off my lecture. I had annoyed the man who cannot be annoyed. I take that still as some minor victory. At least that part of my bounty hunting career lives on.

'I thought you were some kind of rogue vigilante warrior. I was lead to believe that you rip off women's heads and eat their children. I came to end a monster, and instead I saw a man who despite being on the receiving end of an assassination attempt after being beaten half to death by a monster had the courage to put himself once again in harm's way to assist a man who swore allegiance to his mortal enemy!

I saw him begin to shiver all over. As if his body again rejected what his mind demanded. His hair which he had pulled back to make for a solemn death began to come forward again inch by inch until three forelocks came down across his face. Two on his right eye and one on his left. Sweat droplets began to form as he raised his arms for a third time and gave one final chilling scream before thrusting the dagger towards his chest again. As the dagger came closing in towards his heart, I knew I had to find a more permanent solution. He was stuck in this vicious cycle of suicidal intent, that simply blocking the dagger with the sword would be futile. He would push through it with sheer will to end his life. I needed something stronger. My revolver, which had been in my leather gun strap all along called to me, and I fired blankly at the dagger. I missed. The bullet cut through both his hands forcing him to drop the dagger into the sound and let out a wail of agony. He got up and lifted me from my shirt with his left hand and cocked his right fist behind his head ready to punch me into the snow like I knew he wanted to. With what little breath fear left me with I made out the words:

'Why do you think the Guardian spared you?' Just as the fist was about to fly through my jaw, Jack opened his eyes widely again. He was back, and his face displayed those inquisitive features from underneath the anguish again. He released me and I finally had his undivided attention again.

I cleaned the snow from my leather garments and got up to my feet. Jack remained unmoved. His eyes formed diamonds with his vision burning anywhere he looked with a fire so intense it could melt the snow we stood on. The bags underneath his eyes scuffled and the wounds on his cheeks dripped crimson. I was on the spot, and I just spoke the truth.

'I came to that place under false context. I was told that you were a villain, but it seems I was deceived, much like how you have been deceived by the same entity. I ask you to please forgive me for what I tried to do.'

He rested his eyes a moment, and just as quickly as his rage formulated, so too did it disappear underneath the comforting warmth of his wavy tendrils. His breathing regulated and his posture straightened. Violence was eliminated as an option. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at me calmly, yet intently. I said to him:

'After the battle, I saw the vanguard of the portal lift aloft a great boulder and try to smother you with it. I saw him read your last rites, only to be barred by the portal itself. It flickered in alarm, denying your foe the opportunity to end you.'

His body jerked up in excitement and his eyes elongated in surprise. His mouth turned the cold wind around us to a toasty warmth and excitement kicked up in his breath again. The optimist in me spurred me on to continue and I said:

'After he put you on the same winged creature that presumably brought the two of us here, I saw the portal show an image of you, but far older and far wiser.'

'What!?' he said in surprise.

'You see Jack, the only reason that guardian could not end you is because you _are_ the man who has been prophesized to defeat him. You simply haven't grown into him yet.'

Jack's mouth drew a faint smile on his face and with that I knew where I stood in the world. That smile clarified my vision and painted my future to this very day. He placed his devastated right arm on my shoulder and I did the same with my left. It rested there for a while along with tresses of his still undone onyx-colored hair. For an instant I saw white there and thought perhaps that bearded middle aged man was not far off, but in the warmth of the moment the white snow in his locks melted and made his locks shine all the more brightly. In that embrace, he and I had put aside our differences in friendship. I said to him then a few words that I can only hope still resonate with him as his memory resonates with me:

'Never again should you feel shame, guilt, or displeasure at any defeat you may come across. Now you know that you are destined to go back to the past. All of these defeats, all of these setbacks merely prepare you for it.'

His smile grew and trebled in size. His eyes fixated on mine and he looked right at me a new man. With a renewed sense of optimism, he brought both hands together and bowed before me. Yes, Samurai Jack bowed before me and thanked me.

'Thank you for showing me the truth. I shall never forget your kindness my friend.' As he bowed, the ringlet shocks that covered his burnt back fell and covered the two sides of his face reminded me of both his humility and his dignity. No more was I in the presence of a rogue fugitive. I was in the represented of the legendary Samurai Jack of old. It is quite the indescribable feeling, dear reader. I can only hope that you feel it one day.

'Thank you Jack for showing _me_ how wrong I was. You have proved to me today that you really are a man of righteousness. We are undeserving of your efforts my friend.'

'I wish you the best in your future endeavors.' He said as he tried to walk past me. I stretched my hand out across his chest and forbade him from walking away. He looked at me strangely, but I reassured him of my actions.

'Jack.' I said. 'You're on the summit of a mountain a thousand meters high. There's no way your climbing down by yourself.'

He looked at me as if I'd insulted his mother, but he knew I was coming from a right place. With my arm wrapped around him, comforting his bare bones and giving him the strength he sorely needed he made sure my efforts had not been wasted simply by staying there in the cold with me. I wet my lips and put them together between my left index and thumb and blow as hard as I could and thankfully a loud whistle came along. There was silence for a while, until the ground started to rumble underneath us. Jack let go of me as he put his hand on the hilt of sword preparing for battle. His mind thought of all battle scenarios save the most obvious one: the reemergence of the red winged beast. I looked at him as he looked tense and ajar. He looked back at my confused stare and we instinctively laughed together heartily and happily. We walked over to the beast and said to Jack:

'After you.'

'No, no my friend after you!'

'Oh no, after you.'

'Oh no please my friend after you.'

'After you.'

'After you.'

'Oh no I'm afraid I must insist after you.'

'After you.'

'After you.'

'After you.'

This continued for ten minutes until the beast puffed out its nostrils in frustration, passively threatening us that it would leave without us to die up here in the cold at which point I quickly raced onto the damned thing only to look down from the creature's back to see Samurai Jack collecting fistfuls of his hair and reorganizing it into a bun.

'No! I cried. He looked at me awkwardly.

'It looks better on you down.' He blinked twice strangely.

'Besides, you know it would get undone in flight.'

He nodded in assurance and let his hair go down again and shook it ever so slightly to get it even again. Oh what a marvelous sight it was. Such a wounded lion, now so free from pain and restriction. He got onto the beast with me, and made sure to ride behind me to let his hair flutter in the wind and not my face, though the latter would not be too disturbing. The beast took off towards the shore of mystical lake and Jack struck up a conversation and said:

'You know, I thought so also.'

'About what?' I asked

'My hair does look better down. It is also quite useful in battle!'

'Oh really?' I feigned ignorance. 'Tell me more!'

'Yes, but I think I should grow my beard first.'

'That wouldn't be too bad an idea, Jack.' I said to him as we soared through the skies for what seemed like hours when they were mere minutes. With each flap of the beasts' wings warmth was restored to our bodies, but not to our hearts which through this friendship could not get any warmer.

After the short flight to the shore, the beast settled there on the beach and we got off. Jack pet the beast before it flew back from whence it came. I looked from afar and saw as he restored his dignity and tied his hair into his distinctive bun again. He once again thanked me before he turned and walked north.

'Where do you think you're going?' I asked him.

'….. I…. do not know.'

'Aku's lair is going to reappear ten kilometers south of there in a week's time. If you hurry, that would

be just under a five day walk.'

'You are certain?' he asked

'You've got to trust me on this.'

'But where will you go?' he asked me

'Well, I can't go back to where I was. Aku will know I've failed when he sees you in his lair.'

'I know a place.' He said walking east.

'Jack, Aku's lair is that way.'

'No, but the village I intend to lead you do is _this_ way. Follow me.'

'Jack, what did we say about inexperience?'

He sighed. 'That it leads to unnecessarily bad judgement.'

'Good. I know you're trying to be nice, but you and I both know that even if neither of us don't show up at his lair Aku is going to find out what I did, and then _I'll_ be next on his hit list.'

'Aku!' he murmured angrily. 'Why do you not join me now? Together we can deceive him and vanquish the demon once and for all!'

'And what'll that do? Sooner or later some other shogun is gonna show up here and rule over us worse than he ever did.'

'I find difficulty in believing this.'

'Trust me Jack. You and I both know you're not going to win that duel, because we both know where your destiny is.' I said pointing across the lake.

'Ah, I get it now.'

'With every scar you suffer, and every blow you take, and every defeat you make, you get one step closer to the man the guardian can't beat. You're going back to the past Jack, just a little later in the future than you expected.'

'I thank you for your clarity and honesty.' Jack said 'I am humbly in your debt.'

'There are no debts, between friends.' I said to him shaking his forearm on which the blood had now dried and had begun to heal. 'Just tell me where that village of yours is so that I can seek shelter there.'

'It is only three week's walk southeast of here. Ask for the innkeeper and he shall give you lodging.'

Armed with that information I proceeded en route only to have the thought occur to me: 'No one is going to believe me. My red garbs are unmistakable. I need to ask for-'

'EHEM' I heard Jack clear his throat behind me and there he stood an Adonis among men. His muscles outshone the sun with the crimson scars glistening all over him. His hair sang in the wind as free as a flock of birds. In his hand was a piece of his robe that he had torn. Drawn on it, or more precisely ripped through it, was a circle and a square with concave sides. On each side there was a cross, effectively forming crosshairs. Along with the symbol was a lock of that perfectly sculpted crowning glory of his.

'Take these with you. They will prove your honesty.'

I thanked him unexpectedly and just as quickly as he grabbed my attention was he gone on Aku's trail again. His hair now back to its traditional state and his wounds slowly but surely getting healed and preparing themselves for the next battle, scarring their locations and reminding their wearer not to get struck in the same place twice.

That was the last time I saw him, Samurai Jack. I could never tell him my name lest that jeopardize our friendship, though I think he might already know. But no matter. My love for this man is not the reason I have chosen to write this at the end of my life. That was all thirty or thirty five years ago. I cannot remember. It has been forty five years since Jack was sent from the past to this blasted future and still we suffer under this dictating presence. Aku. I beginning to fear that we shall never be free, but I shan't lose hope. I have heard from my sources that Aku's resolve grows thin. The fear he harbors for Jack has begun to outweigh the hatred he has for him. But the stories we have grown accustomed to about Samurai Jack have become rarer and rarer. It is scarce for us to read a believable account of the Samurai. Most of it is incomprehensible hearsay. Other accounts say that he died in battle, but I know that can't be true. It pains me to say that I do not know where he is. All I know is where is going to be. I am writing this here, in all transparency that you may know that this lonely traveler was once a sworn enemy of his and is now a close friend from afar. He writes this now that it may outlive him in his ailing years. That his guilt may be washed away with the ink in this parchment and the information it carriers to its reader.

Noble Reader,

Should you encounter a weary traveler, I beg of you to help him. You never know what he harbors within him and what little kindness that you offer could change his entire existence. I was wrong that day thirty or forty years ago. They day the future beckoned for me. I thought Jack's tiny stature and limited viability against such an ogre prohibited his victory at all odds. I thought he was an opportunistic man that sought only his own selfish needs. But I was wrong. He is a small man who carries the weight of the world on his torn kimono and races on. He is a good man, who faces the most discouraging of odds and presses forth. On that day, he was ill-prepared for what was before him, but his mind was pure and true. Today, I know that he is well-prepared, but I know not of the state of his mind. His resolve was always a strong thing, but always tested. I would not blame him if after all this time, he finally failed one test. The test of experience is an ardent one, but surely if he comes to surpass it, liberation shall await us all and these shackles that bind us to parchment and ink shall be no more.

Good reader, I beg of you, if you see a long haired bearded man shunned by the world and lost in the wind scattered between the moons and the sun remind him of who he is. Tell him that he is our hope for a world liberated from the tyrannical absolute gaze of Aku, and if he needs reminding, come to my shack in East Kabur. I have settled here knowing of the imminence of my death. Search the top drawer on my nightstand and there you shall find my most prized possessions. Give them to him, and hope that he remembers his clan and his purpose, but most importantly his destiny.

Kindest Regards,

A Redeemed Soul.


End file.
